


the colors you burned in my lungs

by mxdvsx



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Angst?, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Beta Read, ara ara omi-kun, attempt at writing, flowers ig, hanahaki au no one asked for, i wrote this instead of sleeping because y not, idk - Freeform, no beta bros we die like men, sakusa has hanahaki, uwu, yeet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23229409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxdvsx/pseuds/mxdvsx
Summary: oh, it’s killing me, kiyoomi thinks, looking at the flowers,how beautiful.(it’s not the worst way to die, he supposes)
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 13
Kudos: 262





	the colors you burned in my lungs

**Author's Note:**

> kinda bloody  
> not _that_ much blood  
> but still  
> blood  
> cause  
> hanahaki  
> yeet

Sakusa Kiyoomi shot up from his bed, his throat tight. Something was _wrong_. Something was very wrong, but he didn’t know just _what_ had caused him to wake up like that. He coughs, and feels a choking sensation in his lungs, they feel tight, like a panic attack. But his breathing is slow, as is his pulse, so a panic attack is out of the question.

So, what is it?

He coughs again. And again.

He chokes, like there were vines wrapped around his lungs, squeezing the air out of them.

(Little did he know, it was exactly that.)

He gets up and fills his cup, drinking the water in a flash and wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

He sighs and climbs back into bed.

Something was really wrong.

-*-

“Sakusa-kun, are you okay, you look a little pale,” Meian says after practice.

Kiyoomi nods, warily, thinking of last night, when he woke up in a coughing fit.

“I’m fine, Meian-san.”

Meian hums, “go home and take a nap, I think you're catching a fever.”

Kiyoomi feels bile rising up in his throat. _Germs, germs, germs_ , Meian seems to notice his distress at the thought of catching a cold and corrects himself, “Or-or, Sakusa-kun, it could just be the stress, or you’re tired, we did have a pretty tiring game yesterday.”

Kiyoomi nods solemnly, and whispers, “okay.”

He walks into the locker (he always, _always_ have to be first) he takes a shower and starts coughing again. They came in fits, hysterical fits, and he feels the choking sensation again in his lungs. Tears started to form in his eyes. The coughing dies down and he continues his shower without a hitch. He walks out to see a changing Atsumu, his bare chest making blood rush to Kiyoomi’s face, he quickly puts on his mask to hide it.

“Yer alright, Omi-kun? I heard ya coughin’.”

Kiyoomi notices how he avoids the topic of germs and sickness, which Kiyoomi is grateful for.

Kiyoomi nods, “I’m fine.”

Atsumu gives him a smile, and his chest squeezes, he coughs again.

“Okay, whatever ya say, Omi-kun.”

Kiyoomi nods lightly and walks out of the changing room, heading back to his apartment.

He arrives and closes the door, leaning his back onto it, coughing and coughing, like there is no tomorrow. Which might be true for him, _it’s just a cold_ he thinks, _just a cold_.

Just the thought of being sick makes him panic, germs contaminating his body, the clean slate feeling is gone from his mind, causing his pulse to quicken, and his breathing to turn rapid. 

_I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die_.

He took deep breaths, coughing and choking and then-

Petals.

Oh.

Oh dear.

-*-

He searches it up.

Hanahaki Disease.

_When one develops this disease called Hanahaki, a lot of things can happen. It is reported that people who suffer from this disease cough up flower petals. Now the factor responsible for this sickness is unrequited love. It simply means loving someone and not getting loved in return._

So, who is he in love with?

He honestly does not know. 

_Hanahaki can be cured through surgical removal of the plants' roots, but this excision also has the effect of removing the patient's capacity for romantic love. It may also erase the patient's feelings for and memories of the enamored. It can also be cured by the reciprocation of the victim's feelings._

Would he want to risk losing these feelings?

Yes.

Yes, he would.

He is certain that this ‘love’ isn’t reciprocated, because, Kiyoomi is weird, and hates people and germs, and honestly, any person who falls in love with him would probably be a masochist.

Not that he cares.

He starts looking up hospitals that do the surgery, websites upon websites of research, he decides on a hospital close to his apartment but doesn’t make a call.

He’s scared, he realizes.

Scared that the surgery will go wrong. Scared of the fact that his body (his _lungs_ ) will be exposed to the germs in the air. He could already feel the slice of the knife on his chest, he clutches it, hoping the slicing sensation would stop.

It doesn’t.

He thinks of how big the cut would be, how much _germs_ would get i. He took a deep breath. And another. And another. The feeling doesn’t go away and tears start to trickle down his face.

“Stop.” He whispered to the ghost of the night.

“Please…just-just go away.” He says, like it would cause this feeling he has for this person to wither away. “Please…” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.”

He’ll have to get the surgery sooner or later, or else his feelings would _really_ be the death of his. It would consume him with beautiful petals and flowers and he’d choke to death on them.

He coughs up more flowers, the red and white hues contrasting each other and he cries. He doesn’t want this any of this, so… _why_?

He searches up ‘red flowers’ looking for the one with similar petals to his. He finds a picture of a bouquet, with red, pink, purple, and white flowers, fitting its name in the caption ‘Bouquet that means Love.’ He clicks on it and it leads him to the page. It consists of Lilacs, Carnations, Roses, Camellias, and Lily of the Incas. He searches all of them up.

Carnations.

They’re carnations.

He searches up their meaning.

Red means deep love, white means innocent love, and pink…he couldn’t be bothered to find pink. The meanings did kind of contradict each other, deep and innocent love didn’t go well with each other, but he decides that him catching feelings and this disease was already a contradiction enough. He shouldn’t be surprised.

He laughs sardonically, closes his laptop, and decides to go to sleep.

-*-

A week later, Kiyoomi wakes up to blood and petals next to him and a petal on his tongue.

Kiyoomi avoids everyone at practice, not that he doesn’t do that already, so really, no one notices.

Except for Atsumu, of course.

“Omi-kun-”

Kiyoomi’s heart stutters. He stops the feeling immediately.

“-are you okay? You look really pale, maybe you should go home?”

Kiyoomi waves him off and turns away.

“I’m okay.”

Atsumu makes a disapproving noise.

“I don’t believe ya.”

“You should.”

“But I won’t.”

“Why are you like this?”

“Well, ya see, when two people love each other very much, they have a child, and they happened to have an amazing boy, named Atsumu, and his twin, who isn’t nearly as awesome as he is-”

Kiyoomi rubs his temple and pinches the bridge of his nose. He feels the feeling of bile rising in his throat and walks casually to the bathroom, to avoid suspicion, his mask hiding the look of distress on his face. He turns to Atsumu, “don’t follow me.”

Atsumu looked like he wanted to argue, but lets it go and walks away, joining Hinata’s and Bokuto’s conversation, a wary smile on his face.

Kiyoomi walks into the bathroom, looks around to make sure no one is following him, and rushes into a stall, taking his mask off and coughing petals into the toilet.

The red and white petals would’ve looked so beautiful in the water, were it not for the blood.

Oh god, the blood.

He coughs and vomits, blood streaming down from his mouth down to his chin, tears flowing down his face, hoping that the changing room is empty because no one- _no one_ -can know.

The petals stopped flowing and he closes the lid of the toilet standing up and spraying himself with alcohol and wiping his eyes, he flushes the toilet and walks to the sink, Shion was there.

Shit.

He stares at the blood on Kiyoomi’s mouth and chokes on his water.

“You okay?”

Kiyoomi nods.

“No, no, of course not, why did I ask, um, Sakusa-kun, just-just go home, I know you’re sick, I’ll tell Meian-san, just-go home, okay?”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Please, just take care of yourself-we-we have a game next week, you might not be able to play if you’re still sick.”

Kiyoomi sighs. “Okay.”

He washes his mouth- Shion leaving the room-and changes his clothes, he puts his mask on, takes his bag, and leaves.

-*-

So, Shion thinks that he’s sick. Not slowly dying from the garden of carnations in his lungs.

He makes himself hot green tea, to help soothe the sting of the petals and blood. He downs it in one sip, his parents will be disappointed. He starts coughing again, the choking sensation imprinted on his lungs, never leaving.

He quickly rushes to the bathroom petals spilling out of his mouth-

Except they weren’t petals.

They were full bloom flowers.

Oh, shit.

-*-

Kiyoomi doesn’t go to practice the next day. Or the day after that.

Atsumu calls him, he ignores them.

Hinata calls him, he declines them.

He has entered stage four, the last and final stage. And he still doesn’t know who the bloody fuck he’s in love with.

He thinks back to all the time he’s spent with people in the past few weeks. When he gets to Atsumu, his heart clenches and he starts coughing.

Oh.

Oh no.

The coughing won’t stop, and his sheets are now stained with blood.

He curses his heart, his mind, whatever the heck in his head thought that Atsumu was someone he should fall for. He curses Atsumu for being his stupidly attractive self, curses him for respecting Kiyoomi so much that it hurt, curses Atsumu with his bright eyes filled with life, as if he got Kiyoomi’s share of it.

Miya Atsumu would really be the death of him, he thinks.

It’s killing me, Kiyoomi thinks, looking at the flowers, how beautiful.

Maybe, just maybe, this won’t be the worst way to die.

Maybe.

He gets up and washes the flowers, leaving them in a bowl of water at his window still, a reminder of his feelings.

He decides that he’ll go to practice, after all, today, he’ll see and feel his love for Atsumu one last time, from afar, and then he’ll go to the hospital.

And then he’ll be okay.

-*-

“Sakusa-kun! You’re still looking a little pale, but I’m glad to see you.” Meian says, smiling at Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi nods.

“Don’t worry if you can’t do some of the practice, Shion already told me that you’re pretty sick.”

Kiyoomi nods again and walks off to an empty court at the end of the gym to practice his serves.

Atsumu, being his stupidly stubborn self, walks up to him, a ball in hand, and glares at Kiyoomi.

“…What.” Kiyoomi manages to say, swallowing the petals and flowers that threatened to spill out.

“Yer ignoring my calls, either ya really that sick, or yer an asshole, pick one.”

“I was…sick.”

Atsumu frowns but walks to the other end of the court, and shouts, “serve to me, Omi-Omi! I’m gonna practice my receives.”

Kiyoomi frowns and serves at Atsumu, who missed that receive by an inch and laughs.

“Nasty serve as always, huh?”

They keep the serving-receiving routine for about an hour and a half until Atsumu stops and walks over to Kiyoomi, and _smiles_.

“Good work, Omi-kun!”

Kiyoomi had taken his mask of halfway, the heat in the gymnasium too hot to bear, especially with a mask on.

Before he knew it, flowers spilled out of his mouth, red like the blood it came with, and Kiyoomi immediately covers his mouth and runs to the bathroom, Atsumu shouting something that was too blurry to hear.

He locks himself in the bathroom and let the petals, flowers and blood spill out. He quickly wipes his mouth, grabs his bags, and runs home.

Away from everyone.

Away from Atsumu.

-*-

He gets home and quickly runs into the bathroom, letting the remaining bits of the flowers come out of his mouth, he eyesight was blurry, everything was blurry.

He’s dying, he decides. Maybe he’ll die like this, flowers in his lungs.

Then there were furious knocks on his bathroom door.

“Omi-Omi! Omi-kun, let me in!”

The voice is too blurry, but only two people in the world call him by that nickname, and one of them had seen flowers spill out of his mouth. He guessed that it was that one.

He gets up and leans onto his bathroom door.

“What.”

“Still rude even when you’re dying, aren’t ya.” Atsumu laughs tiredly.

“Please, Omi, let me in.”

“What if I said no.”

“I would’ve respected it if you weren’t _fucking dying_.”

“I’m not dying.”

“Do ya think I’m stupid, Kiyoomi? I know hanahaki when I see it, my brother had it in high school, ya know? Please…Kiyoomi, let me in.”

“No.”

“Then just…just tell me who it is, please, I’ll help you, I’ll make sure you confess to them, or-or even get the surgery if you want that, just open the door, Kiyoomi, I’ll take you to the hospital right now if that’s what you want.” Kiyoomi hears tears in Atsumu’s voice. “Just let me in.”

Kiyoomi gets up with shaking legs and opens the door to find Atsumu with tears in his eyes, a mask on his face, and wearing gloves.

“He grabs Kiyoomi with his gloved hands and shakes him, “tell me! Tell me, Kiyoomi, and-and I’ll help you confess to her, she’d be stupid to not accept you-”

“Who said it’s a she?”

“He then-or them! Just-please, or I’ll drive you to the hospital right now, you’re at stage four right? You’ll die, just, _please_.”

“I’ll tell them. Right now.”

Atsumu breathes a sigh of relief. And stops shaking him.

“I like you.”

Atsumu froze, his face stunned.

“What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“I-”

“I know you don’t feel the same way.”

Atsumu starts shaking again, tears streaming down his face, and hugs Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi froze, but there was no skin-to-skin contact, Atsumu had come prepared.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, Kiyoomi, I’m sorry,” tears leaked through Kiyoomi’s jersey and touches his chest.

It doesn’t burn.

“I know you don’t feel the same way. Stop saying sorry.”

“No-it’s I’m sorry, I’m sorry it had to be you who had to choke on flowers.”

“…What do you mean by that.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, even though I thought there was no way in hell you’d like someone as annoying as me, I’m sorry it had to be you who had flowers growing in his lungs I’m-I’m sorry.”

Kiyoomi stares at him.

“What?”

“Stupid Omi-kun! Do I have to say it clearly? I like you, you fucking dumbass.”

“When you say it that way…”

“Shut yer mouth, Omi-Omi! Let me have a moment here!” Atsumu wipes his eyes. “Rude bastard, why do I even like you.” He mutters.

Petals fall out of Kiyoomi’s mouth, just petals, no flowers or blood.

And Kiyoomi smiles.

“Do you have gloves?” He looks at Atsumu, whose eyes were bright with tears and relief.

Atsumu reaches into his pocket and pulls out wool winter gloves.

Kiyoomi puts them on.

Atsumu realizes that he was holding onto Kiyoomi and quickly let’s go, taking two steps back.

Kiyoomi covers his mouth, and says softly, “come back.”

Atsumu looked at Kiyoomi weirdly, but awkwardly shuffles back to Kiyoomi and hugs him.

They stay like that for a minute, or an hour, or a year, and Kiyoomi guides Atsumu to the couch.

Kiyoomi pulls him in, with no intention of letting go.

**Author's Note:**

> meow meow meow ara ara uwu  
> i wrote a japanese-ish one shot while listening to chinese soundtrack. kinda funny, i think  
> come scream w/ me about how sakusa is definitely a top on twitter: @/mxdvsx  
> the soundtrack is from mo dao zu shi btw, u shud watch it  
> just saying  
> also i implied osasuna in that last bit  
> its probs ooc but i just wanted a hanahaki fic okay shush


End file.
